


They don't know, they can't see, are you one of them?

by hhopp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Imagine that), And like pain and misery and stuff, Based on a Tumblr Post, Between dean getting out of hell and meeting cas within canon, Dean Whump, Hey so if i add enough tags will one of those blogs notice me?, Im pretty sure there wasn't, It'll probably read like there was something in my water, Kind of a lot of whump, M/M, S4-ish, This is a weird one, This is fairly angsty, This is very not heterosexual, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhopp/pseuds/hhopp
Summary: Dean and Cas fall in love as the angel repairs the human.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr headcanon I saw before I started watching/ shipping and remembered while spending 6 hours in the backseat of a clown car. ("Castiel and Dean fell in love while the angel was rebuilding him and restoring his soul but once Dean surfaced on earth he didn't remember any of it and Cas has been subtly trying to remind him ever since." And another one like Cas didn't always have black wings but theyou got charred as he pulled dean out of hell)
> 
>  
> 
> This is my first work in this fandom and I haven't really read much so please yell at me in the comments if I messed anything up or there's something wrong with it. Seriously, it would make my day. 
> 
> Title stolen from a Beatles song I've never listened to.
> 
> I own nothing.

Smoke stains streaked across his wings. It was painful, but he had a mission. 

And so, singed wings and all, he flew. A bloody man hung limply from his arms as they throttled through time and space. 

The bloody man who needed to be put back together. 

Castiel set down his broken body and arranged it to make him comfortable. He was a damaged, mangled thing. His soul was worn down, marked with scars and blisters. The angel took a while to examine it. 

Yes, this would take time. 

The bloody man breathed. Or, rather, his soul did. It was fragile, thin, stuttering. Like tissue paper, fraying, in a hurricane. The angel couldn't help but want to fix it. 

The damage was severe, and the repair took centuries. 

He began by piecing together as much of the soul as possible. Shifting sharp-edged chunks back into place, and melding  shaved off, flesh-like sheets back onto its surface. Filling empty crevices with Grace. 

As the shock wore off and Castiel started easing away his pain, the bloody man began to wake. At first, he was confused, and afraid. For the first few years, he just screamed. Castiel gave up on trying to shush him after a couple of months. Eventually, the bloody man grew hoarse.

A soul's screams are harder to bear than a body's. 

When he regained his voice, the bloody man was angry. Castiel did not understand why. He suspected that the man did not know either. The rage took decades to fade. Eventually, though, the bloody man calmed, and started to ask questions. Where are we? What year is it? Is my brother alright?

(He spent six months just repeating his brother's name.)

They spent a long time talking. Not English. This plane of existence was far beyond that sort of thing. It really couldn't be considered talking, anyway. It was a communication of consciousnesses. But it worked. 

After a century, the bloody man entrusted Castiel with his name. Dean. 

It sounded beautiful. Like sunshine piercing unexpectedly through clouds after days of thunderstorms. 

As Castiel reshaped Dean's soul, a strange sense began to plague him. He felt inexplicably connected to the man he was putting back together. Concerned for him beyond his duties. It was foreign, but not necessarily unlikeable.

Eventually, he asked the human what this feeling was. 

"It sounds a lot like love," he'd answered. 

Love. It was something exclusively human, and it took a long time for him to accept the premise. By the time he was at peace with it, Dean's soul was nearly restored. He began his work putting his body back together. 

Well, it wasn't technically his body-- that was buried somewhere on his little blue marble. From hell, the angel had rescued a manifestation of his corporeal form, which contained his soul. Because of this, the damage was so much worse. A human body would have crumbled to dust had it been subjected to this kind of wreckage. If he had a stomach, it would be rolling.

(Angels do not look like or feel anything a human can imagine or comprehend. They look like rough, jagged boulders, but at the same time, wisps of tulle, and at the same time, breaths of wind. They are the color of diluted milk and of mirrors. In their true forms, a touch feels, to a human, simultaneously like a mother's love and an enemy's vengeance. They need vessels to walk the earth. In this limbo, though, that was unnecessary.)

Dean said that he wished he could see him. Or better yet, feel him. Castiel did the best he could, wrapping his consciousness around Dean's in the closest thing he could give to a hug. 

The human seemed to like that. 

The angel couldn't get enough. 

It slowed him down, but he remained swaddled around Dean. They got a few extra decades together because of it. 

Eventually, Castiel had to explain the truth to Dean. His mission. The apocalypse. Dean was quiet for a long time. 

"Will I remember any of this?"

"I'm afraid not. This plane of existence... it's beyond mortal comprehension."

"Will we meet again?"

Castiel didn't know. He hoped so, and told his human as such. 

They did not want to lose each other. 

Dean had begged. Please don't take me back to Earth. Please don't leave me. Please, Cas. Please. Please. 

Castiel wished he could feel physical pain. He wished he could sob until he couldn't breathe. Anything aside from the crushing emotional weight of what he felt. 

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. 

He did what he could to knit their souls together. Make himself a part of Dean and Dean a part of him. Maybe, just maybe, it would make their separation a little less unbearable. 

Castiel unfurled his wings a little while before taking Dean back to his body. 

Dean had gasped at the state of them, charred from hell fire. They had been a beautiful, creamy white, before. Castiel didn't mind-- he'd take any physical feeling if it meant rescuing Dean from all of that. Castiel's self-imposed schedule was altered when Dean insisted they wait until his wings had recovered. 

He acquiesced willingly. Anything for a bit more time with his human. 

Eventually, though, the time came where things had to be restored to their natural order. Castiel picked Dean up, cradled him close. They left the place they'd inhabited together. Sensation returned. They rejoined the normal progression of time, their centuries together only having taken up a year's worth of space on the milky way's timeline. 

The angel sang softly, lovelily in Enochian as they flew between stars, hurtling towards earth at breakneck speed. 

"I love you, I love you, Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou." They chanted it over and over again, words blurring and layering over each others' as they plunged through the atmosphere. What else was there to say? "I'll see you again"? There was a good chance they wouldn't. "I'll never forget you"? Dean wouldn't remember Castiel once his spirit rejoined his body. I love you was enough.


End file.
